Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy or Harry Potter. Oh, and I stole a quote from Checkpoint.
Summary: When Anya has a cauldron whose bottom is too thin, she decides to take action.
Notes: Takes place at Season 3 of BtvS, after Anya bolts from Sunnydale. Takes place at the beginning of GoF for the Potterverse.
I really hope I wrote Anya correctly, she's a hard little bugger to write.
Anya Jenkins was in a dilemma.
She had come across a recipe for a potion that would summon D'Hoffryn. She could negotiate with him in a way that she saw on television. The plan was flawless, other than the fact that it wouldn't work though because the bottom of the cauldron was too damn thin.
The book, Moste Something-or-Another Potions, said that as soon as the potion would boil. A lot. Of course, one needs a sturdy bottom for it to work to its full potential.
Anya was outraged. Appalled, even. She decided to take this to the big dogs. She had heard that expression before in reference to taking things up with the law, but Anya still wasn't sure who cared for these dogs that were so big.
Looking at the label of the cauldron, she planned a trip to London.
"Hello. Where is Diagon Alley?"
She asked this question to many people. Most people gave her strange looks or answered, "What's diagonally?"
British people were so rude. Even more so than Giles.
weren't getting some.
Anya closed her eyes and took a breath. She'd ask one more person then rest for the day. After all, she could ask around again tomorrow.
Before she even had a chance to speak, someone had clapped their hand over her mouth and dragged her away.
do you think you're doing?!"
She observed him. Quite tall he was, with many freckles and fiery hair; he wore glasses over large brown eyes. Not too bad looking. Except for the fact that he was a man and men were scum.
"I was asking where Diagon Alley is. Would you happen to know?" she inquired politely.
"Asking in front of muggles? Honestly! We're in the Leaky Cauldron now, which is pretty much the entrance to Diagon Alley. What is your business here, anyway?" he asked this all very quickly, all the while pushing her through the door of this dingy place that she wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't pointed it out.
Anya wasn't sure what muggles were. At least she was in a place that seemed to specialize in her problem.
"Well, I have a leaky cauldron too. The bottom is so thin that I can't brew stuff! It really sucks, let me tell you. The label on it said it came from Diagon Alley, so I have decided to take action against this injustice. It's horrible. I bet Diagon Alley is overrun with bunnies or something. On second thought, maybe I don't want to go there."
Percy blinked. This couldn't be real.
"S...so, you're starting a movement, of sorts, against thinning cauldron bottoms?"
"Exactly. That's what I said before, duh," Anya looked him up and down, "You seem knowledgeable about this sort of thing. What's your name? Mine is Anya. Like Anyanka without the n-k-a. Not that my name ever was
Anyanka. Always Anya. Anya Christina Emanuella Jenkins, eighteen years old. Born on the fourth of July, and don't think there weren't jokes about that my whole life, mister, 'cause there were. 'Who's our little patriot?' they'd say, when I was younger, and therefore smaller and shorter than I am now."
"Umm, yeah. Great," said Percy. Remembering himself, he said, "Oh, yeah, Percy. Weasley," he stuck out a hand, "pleased to meet your acquaintance, Miss Jenkins."
She took his hand and smiled brightly.
"Your acquaintance is accepted and
pleasing!"to be continued...